


Pleasure Out of Hand

by swilmarillion



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, awful workplace safety practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swilmarillion/pseuds/swilmarillion
Summary: Annatar gives Celebrimbor some pointers in the forge.  Celebrimbor applies them to other pursuits.





	Pleasure Out of Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Someone send Annatar to Eregion's workplace sexual harassment seminar, please.
> 
> UPDATE  
> Please for the love of god go check out [this incredible fanart](https://admirable-mairon.tumblr.com/tagged/swilmarillion/) by [admirable-mairon](https://admirable-mairon.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!

     It had begun to grow late.  The sun had long since set, and the throng of smiths that usually packed the wide aisles of the forge had, one-by-one, departed for home, and hearth, and rest.  Yet even at this late hour, Celebrimbor still toiled, considering the stubborn blade as he turned it over and over in his hand.  It was an obstinate thing, that blade.  He’d been working on it for days, and yet the design he envisioned eluded him.  He was beginning to grow frustrated—with the work, with himself, with everything. 

     He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the warm forge air and feeling himself grow calm.  “Here late again, I see,” said a light, melodic voice from behind him.  Celebrimbor’s eyes snapped open, and he turned over his shoulder to see Annatar, leaning against a bench and watching him.

     “Annatar,” said Celebrimbor, letting out a sigh and turning back toward his work.  “You’re here late.”

     “I’m often here late,” said Annatar pushing himself away from the bench and striding languidly toward where Celebrimbor stood.  “I work best when it’s quiet, and free of distractions.”

     “Usually, I would agree,” said Celebrimbor.  “Though the lack of distraction doesn’t seem to be much help lately.”

     “Oh?”

     “It’s this blade,” said Celebrimbor, waving a hand at the offending weapon, half-finished.  “It should have been a simple task, easily finished, but I can’t seem to make it turn out the way I’d like.”

     “I see,” said Annatar.  He looked at the blade a moment, considering.  “Perhaps you should seek a distraction, rather than avoiding them.  It can be worthwhile to pursue something self-serving now and then.  It refreshes the mind.”

     “In theory,” said Celebrimbor.  “Though something tells me I’ll find no relief in distraction until I’ve figured this out.”

     “You may be surprised,” said Annatar.  “Though I must confess it’s a sentiment I’ve often shared.  Might I offer a suggestion?”

      “Please,” said Celebrimbor, ever-gracious.

     “I have found,” said Annatar, padding closer, “that these kinds of frustrations can often be relieved by a change in technique.”  The distance between them dwindled until Annatar was all but pressed against Celebrimbor’s back.  Celebrimbor could feel the heat from Annatar’s skin, and he shivered, despite himself.  “First,” said Annatar, “adjust your stance.”  He settled his hands on Celebrimbor’s hips, fingertips pressing into shirt and skin alike as he turned Celebrimbor to a more agreeable angle.  “Good,” he said softly, though he did not remove his hands.

     Celebrimbor could feel his heart beating, so loud he half-feared Annatar would hear it.  Goosebumps raised themselves against his skin where Annatar touched him, and he found himself leaning back against the touch.

     “Next thing,” said Annatar, his voice low, conspiratorial, “is your grip.”  One hand slid forward, away from Celebrimbor’s hip, and picked up a hammer.  His other hand guided Celebrimbor’s fingers onto the handle.  “Your tools should feel good in your hands,” he said, his fingers curling around Celebrimbor’s.  “Don’t be afraid to explore, and find what feels best.”  Celebrimbor’s grip was loose, and he let Annatar move his hand up and down the length of the handle in a gentle stroke. 

     Blood rushed in Celebrimbor’s ears; his skin prickled and burned at Annatar’s touch.  It took every ounce of his effort to remain as he was, standing perfectly still but for the motion of his hand with Annatar’s.  He longed to turn, to take Annatar in his arms and wipe the smugness from that beautiful face, make Annatar feel as he did.  But then Annatar was gone, retreating as quickly as he had appeared, stepping a few paces away and watching Celebrimbor.  “A new technique,” said Annatar, “can often be the key to overcoming old frustrations.  Perhaps it can help you too.”  Celebrimbor said nothing, too focused on holding onto the fraying shreds of his composure to respond. 

     “Well,” said Annatar, “I suppose I should leave you to your own devices.”  Celebrimbor heard the sound of footsteps and knew that Annatar was retreating.  He said nothing, standing stock-still, until he heard the click of the door and knew that, at last, he was alone. 

     Celebrimbor let out he breath he had been holding, gripping the edge of the bench before him with shaking hands.  He could feel the pulse of his heart, pounding in his chest.  His skin was on fire, recalling unbidden the rush at the touch of Annatar’s hands.  He could still feel Annatar’s fingers against his own, the electricity between them as Annatar guided him along the shaft of his hammer.

     Celebrimbor’s hand was at his belt, his fingers fumbling with the clasp.  The last dregs of his self-control protested weakly, overruled by his desperation.  Celebrimbor took himself in hand, finding himself already hard.  He recalled the feel of Annatar’s hand against his and matched its stroke, his palm now sliding over skin rather than wood.  He could hear Annatar’s voice in his ear, feel Annatar’s hands curving on his hips.  Celebrimbor’s strokes were desperate and hard, building to an embarrassingly-fast climax.  Celebrimbor came with a cry, muffling the sound against his shoulder as he spilled himself into his hand.  He leaned against the bench, the fingernails of his free hand digging mercilessly into the wood.  His breath came ragged, his head spinning in a haze of pleasure and shame.

     From behind him came the sound of slow, languorous applause.  Celebrimbor nearly jumped from his skin.  He hastily adjusted his pants and turned, scanning the darkness for the source of the sound.  Annatar stepped from the shadows, a smug grin painted on his features.  “Very nicely done,” he said.

     “Annatar,” said Celebrimbor, feeling himself blush.  “I thought you had gone.”

     “I had,” said Annatar.  “Though I’m glad I returned, if only for the pleasure of witnessing such a masterful performance.”  Celebrimbor stared at Annatar, at a loss for how to respond.  Annatar’s eyes wandered over Celebrimbor, and Celebrimbor imagined it was desire the clouded Annatar’s gaze.  “Perhaps you’ll repeat it for me sometime,” Annatar said, jolting Celebrimbor from his musing.

     “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Celebrimbor shot back.  He hadn’t planned to say it; indeed, he wondered where the words had come from, even as they passed his lips.

     Annatar’s grin widened, his eyes flashing.  “I think I would,” he said, considering it.  “I believe I have a great deal more to teach you.”

     Celebrimbor gaped at Annatar, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.  Against his better judgement—not to mention the laws of decency, and of Elvish physiology—he felt himself growing hard once more.  He shifted uncomfortably and hoped Annatar could not see.

     Thankfully, Annatar was already retreating, his steps carrying him back into the shadows.  “Until next time, then,” said Annatar, turning over his shoulder to wink at Celebrimbor.  Then he disappeared into the gloom, leaving Celebrimbor alone with the mess in the forge and in his mind.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr!](http://swilmarillion.tumblr.com/)


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